


Anchor Me

by gabesgoldenwings



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Boy Melodrama "BM" Scene (Supernatural), Castiel Comforts Dean Winchester, Castiel Drives the Impala (Supernatural), Castiel Takes Care of Dean Winchester, Castiel's Angelic Grace (Supernatural), Castiel's Trenchcoat, Dean Winchester Just Wants To Be Loved, Dean Winchester Uses Actual Words, Dean Winchester is Not Okay, Drunk Dean Winchester, During Canon, Existential Crisis, Holding Hands, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Kissing, M/M, No Spoilers, Okay I should stop now, Sad Dean Winchester, Sharing Body Heat, Sharing a Bed, Sort Of, Stargazing, Tags Are Fun, castiel has bee socks, dean just wants to be normal, i guess, implied - Freeform, just a little bit, relationship status unknown, this may be slightly out of character, well okay theres a mention of a slight spoiler for season 4 so be careful
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:13:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27637345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gabesgoldenwings/pseuds/gabesgoldenwings
Summary: Dean has an existential crisis at 3am. Castiel takes care of him, always willing to offer an ear and a helping hand.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 8
Kudos: 74





	Anchor Me

**Author's Note:**

> I was gonna post this before I finished the finale. I didn't, and now I'm glad. I feel like we all need literally anything else right now.
> 
> There's not enough of Cas comforting Dean on this site. I mostly wrote this for myself, but hey, why not share?
> 
> This is not set it any particular season in the show, but I'd love to hear what season you're picturing it in!

It was unusual to hear sound at this time of night. Unusual, but it did happen. Sometimes Dean would awake from a particularly bad nightmare and head to the kitchen for a 3am snack. Or Sam would find he couldn't sleep and decide to do some late night research.

What made this situation stand out was where the sound was located, and when it was heard. Naturally, as an angel, Castiel could hear better than both of the brothers, a fact they forgot rather often, so he noticed when they were awake. The particularly unusual thing about tonight was that the sound hadn't stopped.

It was a subtle difference, one he hadn't noticed until the sound had grown louder again. But, although Sam had stopped moving a few hours ago, Dean had quietened down, but never stopped. And now he was becoming more active again.

To put it simply: Dean hadn't slept at all. And now, he had just walked to the garage.

This was one of the moments Castiel was still unsure how to go about. Did he pursue Dean, or was this one of the times he was best left alone? He'd spent years by this human's side, and occasionally he still felt as though he didn't understand him at all.

It was the loud crash that made up his mind. The shattering of a hard object, spilling shards across the floor. He slipped off the bed, a book dropping off his lap and onto the covers with the softest _thunk_ , and swiftly walked towards the garage, bee-patterned socks muffling his footsteps.

He stared in at the scene. Dean was leaning against the impala, his arm resting on her roof, his head resting in his arm, hunched over, a pool of liquid at his feet with hundreds of amber glass shards surrounding it.

Castiel cleared his throat. "Dean."

Dean jumped, straightening himself out and staring at the angel with wide eyes, clutching his chest. "God, a little warn-" he stopped himself, his expression falling, shaking his head and looking away.

Castiel grew concerned. Dean's behaviour was unusual. "My apologies. Dean, are you alright?"

Dean didn't reply. Castiel moved across the room, closing the rather large gap between them. The thin, overripe scent of beer clung to the air around him, and even with his face turned away, Castiel could tell that he was drunk.

It was a rather typical sight to see Dean with a beer in his hand. To see him drunk, however, on a normal day, that was unusual. Rather unusual.

Castiel was unsure whether he should break the silence or not. Eventually, he decided that decision should be Dean's to make. He was there to see him, after all.

And finally, he spoke.

"I don't know, Cas," he sighed, voice less rough than usual. "Let's go for a drive."

"I don't think that's a very wise decision, Dean."

Dean turned to face him with tired eyes and tilted eyebrows. "Since when is anything we do a good decision?" he retaliated. He ran his hand down his face. "I can't be here right now."

Castiel stared. Dean looked absolutely wrecked, barely trying to hide it. He wondered if he always looked this weathered, wrinkles around his eyes and mouth, both of which were downturned in an unhappy kind of way. Surely he didn't, but then, maybe Castiel wouldn't have noticed either way. Dean's appearance wasn't something he tended to think about. He liked it however it was, so never bothered to question it much.

Well, he liked it _almost_ however it was. He couldn't say he was a fan of the exhaustion shadowing Dean's eyes, or the crease between his eyebrows. The little things that, no matter how many masks he wore, always showed the true feelings underneath.

"Dean," he said. "You're tired. Are you sure you shouldn't sleep?"

Dean turned away, eyebrows furrowing. "Cas."

Castiel stared at him for a while longer, trying to interpret his current emotion. Finally, he gave in. " _I'll_ drive." He shot a pointed look at the broken beer bottle at their feet.

Without hesitation, Dean tossed him the keys, and walked around the car to enter the passenger's door. Castiel watched his every move. His arms hung limply at his sides, his shoulders hunched. He ran a hand across the car halfheartedly. Castiel wondered how much he had had to drink, what was going on in his head. It was clear something was very wrong. His concern grew by the minute.

They drove, at 3:39am, for twenty minutes in a random direction in complete silence. Castiel expected Dean to reach over and turn the music on. He didn't. He sat there, eyes closed, not moving for so long that Castiel wondered if he was asleep. He wasn't. He decided against disturbing him. He doubted he wanted to talk right now.

After twenty minutes, driving through empty roads and passing empty fields, Dean opened his eyes, and looked over. "Pull over."

Castiel did so without hesitation, parking the car in the closest safe spot. Before the wheels had even rolled to a stop, Dean was opening the door and exiting the car. Castiel followed suit. Dean jumped the fence of the empty paddock beside them, and lay down in the dewy grass.

Castiel dithered. After about a minute had passed and he showed no signs of following, Dean sat up to face him. "Dude."

'Dude' was a word that could be interpreted in many ways, but with Dean's exasperated tone and confused look, Castiel figured he was asking what he was doing, why he wasn't following.

"I don't want to get my trenchcoat dirty," the angel confessed.

"Oh, you've gotta be kidding me-" Dean muttered, standing up and climbing back over the fence. Castiel watched as he opened the boot of the car and pulled out a blanket, his stiff body language giving away his mood as he tossed it at Castiel.

This time, there was no hesitation as they spread out the blanket and lay down on top of it, gazing up at the stars. The fresh night air was so cold that even beneath his trenchcoat and the gentle, constant warmth of his grace, he could feel the cold biting at his skin.

Dean was shivering. Castiel reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder, letting some of the grace, soft, buzzing and warm, flow into his friend. Dean didn't speak, but he reached a hand up and placed it over Castiel's own.

For a while they just stared up at the stars. They were always a calming sight, the constellations far away, twinkling gently. The idea that there was more out there, that each little pinprick of light was orbited by several more planets.

It made it seem like every mistake he'd ever made mattered a little less, that if the universe was so large, one little thing that's long in the past is not worth worrying about. These were not thoughts meant for an angel of the lord; they were human thoughts. Human thoughts that Castiel had, and that he cherished.

All the while, he didn't remove his hand from Dean's shoulder, and Dean didn't remove his hand from atop it. Castiel wondered if it helped him feel warmer, or if it just helped him feel calmer, safer. He didn't ask about it, because such things often damaged Dean's pride, and pride is one of the worst things you can take from someone, even worse than grace. He didn't want to see that wall shut behind Dean's eyes again.

Suddenly, Dean groaned. "I need a drink. Why did I come empty handed."

"You've had enough for tonight." Dean shot a withering glare up to the stars. "Dean, are you alright?"

Castiel watched as Dean deeply inhaled, and slowly exhaled. He hoped he hadn't said the wrong thing. He was just worried, and wanted Dean to know he could talk if he wanted to. He just wasn't sure how to convey that properly.

"Man, what even is my life, Cas?" he sighed, sounding broken. "Sometimes I just wonder how I got here. Every day millions of people get up, go to their job, go home, and spend their evening with family and friends. They have normal jobs, like mechanics or doctors, and they do normal things, like help their kids with their homework or go drinking with friends, and they talk about normal things, like the neighbourhood, or their coworkers, or their dog."

"They meet people. And yeah, they lose people. People die every day, Cas." Dean kept his gaze fixed on the stars, but he didn't try to hide the vulnerability in his expression. Castiel listened patiently. "And I love saving people. Hunting things. _The family business_." He scoffed the last part. "There's always gotta be someone to save people. But why did it have to be me?"

Of course, Castiel knew how badly Dean wanted to be normal. A part of him was reminded of Anna. She gave up her grace, her power, her duty, just to experience human emotion. The difference between the two was that Dean would never give up the job, even as he hates it, just to experience that normality. It was a luxury he couldn't afford, and he knew it.

But he would be so good at it.

Castiel knew Dean would never admit it, that he'd defend his father with tooth and claw, but he wasn't raised right. Castiel didn't know anything about parenting, but he did know that Dean was, in fact, raised rather wrong. Dean wasn't raised to be Dean, Dean was raised to be John. To this day he still felt everything his father had said to him was truth. And that wasn't fair.

"I'm sorry, Dean," he said. Dean turned his head to look at him. For a fleeting moment, he could see that broken child deep down inside, the part of him that knew he'd be wronged but felt as though it were himself that was wrong.

The part of him that had been there, the night his mother was engulfed by flames, the night he carried his infant brother to safety. The part of him that still felt it was his responsibility to carry said brother to safety, or die trying. The part of him that had grown up with an absent father, spent Christmases and birthdays alone, learned to drive in a car littered with empty beer bottles and full of weapons. The part of him that hadn't been told just how loved he was since he was four years old. The part of him that hated all that, that hated his life, and felt terrible for feeling he deserved better.

And then it was gone.

"Don't pity me, man," he sighed. "I can't handle pity right now."

He deserved to be pitied, but Cas held it back anyway. "You've been through so much hurt, and you keep going. It's not your responsibility. You choose to do that. That doesn't make you weak, Dean. That makes you strong."

Maybe he deserved to be pitied, but above all, he deserved to be admired.

Dean started shaking, just a little, and his hand, which had previously just been resting on top of Castiel's, gripped tightly. His eyes grew wet and he sat up and turned away.

"It's okay to feel emotion, Dean," Castiel whispered. "You don't have to hide that."

He hid anyway. It wasn't very Dean to show his emotions, he'd been hiding them since he was four years old. Castiel wasn't expecting him to change overnight. But he didn't let go of his hand, though his body shook.

"It's just not fair, Cas!" he cried. Castiel sat up as well, bringing his other hand up to hold Dean's with both of his hands. "Everyone comes and goes. Mom, Dad, Bobby, Charlie, me and Sam, you. I don't want to go on like this anymore." He threw his head back and let out a bitter laugh. "Fuck! I'm not drunk enough for this anymore."

They sat for a while until Dean pulled his hand back and wiped his sleeves across his face. He looked over at Castiel, revealing eyelashes slightly spiked from tears and red eyes. "Thanks for bringing me back out of my head again," he said quietly.

"And I don't know if I've ever said this, but thanks for not being a dick anymore, Cas," he sighed, leaning back on the blanket. "I'm just glad you're here, man."

"Of course Dean," he replied quietly, laying down beside him again. The stars winked down at them, as though they held all the secrets of the universe, as though the constellations would spell out the future. But they didn't, and they wouldn't, because they were stars.

"Cas," Dean whispered, voice cracking on the syllable. Castiel turned his head and looked over. Dean was facing him, the faint moonlight accentuating his features.

He leaned over, and pressed their lips together.

"Don't leave me again," he breathed, the words fluttering across his skin, warm and hopeful, broken, like butterflies into the night.

Castiel didn't reply.

The night stretched on as they lay side by side. How much time had passed, Castiel couldn't say. The sky lightened a little, and upon the first bird's chirp, the first sign of life, Dean finally spoke again.

"Cas? I think you should take me home now."

They picked up the blanket, which had not been enough to keep the cold dew from the grass from seeping through, but at least Castiel's trenchcoat was still clean. They got back in the car and this time Dean turned on the music. He fell asleep halfway through the drive.

Castiel almost didn't want to wake him again, but luckily Dean woke up on his own as soon as the car rolled to a stop, back inside the garage. They got out of the car and Dean, yawning and rubbing his eyes, swore when he noticed the broken beer bottle. "I forgot about that."

"I'll take care of it," Castiel promised, and they both walked inside. Dean stopped Castiel when they reached his room, and patted him on the shoulder, too sober and alert now to give them anything more than that.

"Thanks, man. For everything." He rubbed the back of his neck. "You anchor me, I guess. Thanks for getting me out of my head. It can get a little brutal in there every now and then, but I promise I only feel that way sometimes."

Castiel nodded back, wishing he could do more. "In a way, I guess you anchor me, too."

Dean gave him a faint smile and disappeared into the room, closing the door.

Castiel cleaned up the broken bottle and the spill, and on his way back to his room, he found himself stopping outside of Dean's door.

So he knocked.

And he opened it.

And Dean let him in.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to loki for beta reading this even though we're both so tired from yelling about the finale that it probably wasn't very effective, which is very much understandable.
> 
> I have a bigger fic in the works, but that might still be a little while so this is just a short piece I wrote for fun. Hope it was satisfactory. Unlike the finale.


End file.
